I’m back.
Rest assured that in this short absence my flame for Thug Kitchen recipes has still been burning bright, despite a new work/life balance taking center stage for a while. I’ve kept the embers glowing here on the periph, and now I’m gonna start splashing kerosene all over the fuckers. Let’s burn through some excellent recipes shall we?
So having cooked all 115 recipes from the first Thug Kitchen cookbook, Eat Like You Give a Fuck I’ve started cooking my way through the other two books and the TK blog recipes.
Today we are jumping into unchartered territories of passive aggressive polenta scones from book 3: Fast as Fuck.
Yeah, you heard me. These are passive aggressive mofos. These scones aren’t openly aggressive because I suspect they’re secretly scared of confrontation. But they want to be taken seriously and baked a certain way, and they want everything to be all about them and their needs. Yet, they don’t want to seem too demanding because they still want people to like them, so they try to veil their uncooperative ways with brown sugar and other niceties. You know what I’m saying? Manipulative, yet tasty little biatches.
Brown Sugar Polenta SconesMy kid helped me in the kitchen that day. I say that day because this is a few days later. These are retrospective scones. My kid delighted in partaking in the Thugish ways.
Once he’d finished stirring and tasting, I took over and threw in the blueberries. The Thugs had encouraged making a half-assed effort here and not over stirring, so I thought it was best that I, a pro at lazy-adulting, showed my kid how this shit was done. Role model all the good habits, you know?
It was really wet.
(that’s what she said).
So it was hard to “press” into a rectangle and to cut into triangles, because it was gooping all over the place. So I kinda slopped it onto the baking tray the best that I could, shaping it as I went. I didn’t understand. I thought I’d followed the recipe exactly and this is one of the points that I felt the scones were being passive aggressive with their extremely uncooperative wet dough. With dough up my sleeves and flour in my hair, questions and expletives were being thrown around the kitchen. Questions like, ‘What the fuck do you want from me?! I’ve given you all I’ve got!’ (Do you guys ever shout while you’re cooking? Surely I’m not the only one who shouts at their food.)
Ever tried shoving a square peg in a round hole? That’s what trying to form these scones was like for me that day. Maybe my kid had slipped in some more motherless milk while I wasn’t looking. Who knows. He’s at that sneaky stage so I wouldn’t put it past him.
So these scones were rounder than they were triangular. Fuck it, who needs angular food anyways? The only shapes that impress me are the ones thrown by my gorgeous man on the dance floor.
Finally I gave up, shoved everything in the oven, slammed it shut, and walked away.
The results were spectacular. Maybe not so much in the appearance department, but in the taste department, son-of-a-monkey-whore those things were good. I think the fact that they were wet during the pre-bake phase made them deliciously spongy and less dry than they may have been otherwise. The corn flour gave it more texture, very cool.
Couple these sons of bitches with a bitchin’ coffee and you have yourself a very good morning.
As my kid and I sat down to munch and crunch on these mofos we talked about how cosy it is to eat baked stuff when it’s raining outside. We also talked about Christmas.
It was easy to read the look in my kid’s eyes. He was clearly digging the scones. His eyes were saying ‘Thank you mummy, these are really good.’ But we were talking about Christmas while we munched. So his eyes were also saying ‘FUCK PRACTICAL PRESENTS. THIS YEAR I JUST WANT TOYS.’ There was a determination in that look.
Message received my friend. Message received.
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